Quarante et un

For all you non-French speakers out there, that would be 41.

I guess that includes me. As much as I would love to say that I speak French, the reality is that I took three years of it in high school and most of what I remember comes down to something like this:

"Je voudrais un pizza avec anchois et Jon Rodis, s'il vous plait."

translation....

"I would like a pizza with anchovies and Jon Rodis, please."

OMG. How embarrassing. Not like anyone knows or even cares, but see, Jon Rodis was my biggest crush in high school. And it was so typical. He didn't notice me or like me. Heck, I wasn't even his type. But I loved him. Not really love, of course, but loved like I would write his name all over my binders and mutter sweet nothings under my breath whenever he'd pass by in hopes that he might hear me and realize that I was the girl of his dreams, the one he's been looking for his whole 16 years. His.....everything.

But that never happened. Actually, it all came to a disastrous end when at a school rally I yelled out that I loved him (or something like that - I was kind of a weirdo) and he came up to me and asked that I stop doing that because it really pisses his girlfriend off.

All I could think about was how he had never spoken to me and I had never seen his face so close. Then I took a deep breath and realized in that instant I went from wanting to grab his face and kiss him as he walked up to me (with his gf following closely behind) to pure and utter disgust. At myself. At him. I had never been more humiliated and wanted nothing more than to dig a hole at his feet, throw myself in, and pull him in before he got a chance to escape.

Just kidding. My crush fizzled away that day. But - that's not what this post is about.

This post isn't about the French language or Jon Rodis or holes I've wanted to crawl into.

It's about Roberto. It's his birthday today, and as much as he loves to hear stories on how crushes of mine died out, I don't think he'd like it very much if his entire birthday tribute was dedicated to one of them.

But it is. We'll get to that later.

Today Bobby is 41 years young. He was born in 1969 which automatically makes him sexy to me since I always wanted to be a hippy, and that is my little way of having some connection with that time period. Almost immediately he became a kid of the 70's and wore those cute little numbered tees all the kids wore back then and jammed out to ABBA in the living room with his older sister by his side. He made funny faces in all the candid family photos I've seen and was obviously the coolest member of his family, even as an 8-year-old. In the 80's, he was lucky enough to be a teenager, getting through his awkward years by burying his head in textbooks and doing nightly sit-ups to The Cure. The 90's brought him his first real set of girlfriends (2, to be exact) a couple internships, and his first official job. Bobby became an accountant. He still jammed out, but instead of ABBA it was to Ween and The Pixies. He ended his relationships (he says he was waiting for me. Awwwww....) and soon after began his life as a family man.

I have loved him at every stage of his life. I know...I didn't actually know him. But I loved him. Throughout our marriage I've gotten to know so many different parts of him. I guess I'm lucky that I found someone who doesn't hide from his past, but embraces it. There are times I get to dance with the little boy from the 70's, or talk to the teenager from the 80's about our deepest thoughts. I can get all spiritual with the little hippy baby that lives inside him, and lots of times I daydream about meeting him in the 90's, when he was 25, traveling the world. I wish sometimes we were the same age at the same time and that we had met about 10 years earlier.

But then, that's just a wish. And I know it will never come true. So I am thankful for the days I have right now with him. I'm thankful for the 00's when I met him for the first time. He was in his 30's. It was 2001.

He looked up at the sky and stole my heart.

And for the record, he would never, EVER, not in a millllllion years pull a "Jon Rodis" on anyone. That's why I love him so. So this post is indeed dedicated to Jon Rodis - for giving me yet another reason why Bobby is so fabulous.

Oh, and before I close this out........

Happy Birthday to my man.

Celebrating with his family (minus the wife behind the camera).

His dad, Estevan our nephew, Ethan, his mama, Clemmie, Seb, his sis Jackie, and our Vega.

AND

the amazing cake I made for him that wasn't so amazing.